


Badass ladies being badass in space

by fictionalaspect



Series: Unfinished, Abandoned, Snippets, Bits and Pieces [17]
Category: Bandom, The Like
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Badass Ladies, F/F, On the Run, Outlaws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A pan-bandom all-girl Firefly-type AU. The sheer immensity of the story I wanted to tell kind of overwhelmed me, and I never got any further.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Badass ladies being badass in space

**Author's Note:**

> A pan-bandom all-girl Firefly-type AU. The sheer immensity of the story I wanted to tell kind of overwhelmed me, and I never got any further.

**Prologue**

The navigation computer wasn't responding. It was blinking a rapid stream of blue and green across Laena's screen, which would have been fine if they'd been preparing to land and not fifty miles above surface.

"Shit," Laena muttered, hitting the reset button and jamming the accelerator forward. Another shot crossed their bow and splattered on the forward shields. She hit the com with her elbow, swiveling the pilot's chair to keep her vision forward.

"Annie," Laena said, trying to keep her voice even. "Annie, come on. Give me _something_." Sweat dripped into her eye and stung, and Laena blinked hard with her left while keeping her right open. This hadn't been in the plan—it was supposed to be an easy job, in-and-out, no muss and no fuss and certainly no pissed-off government embargo ships on their tail. She hadn't even had time to take off her shoes.

Annie's voice crackled through the interference. "Engine bay's overheating," Annie said. "I've almost got the coolant fixed, just hold on, okay?"

Greta's voice crackled through, cutting Annie off mid-sentence. "I need the med-pacs," Greta said, and she wasn't making any effort to keep her voice steady. "Vicky-T's—shit, guys, seriously, where the hell did we put them? I can't—"

"Switching to dual channels," Cassadee's voice chirped, although even she sounded solemn. "Okay guys, channel one for 'fuck they're shooting at us' chatter, and channel two for 'keeping Vicky-T alive.' Pump up the one you need at your station, but keep both on stand-by. And Greta, check the kitchen."

"The fuck are they doing in the kitchen?" Annie said. Laena could hear the hiss of the engine bay behind her, and the deep hum of the sublight drive.

"Long story," Tennesee said shortly, cutting in from the gunning bay. "Tell you later. Laena, can we come around that mountain up there and do a forward roll? I think I can pick them off. And will someone check on Z?"

"I will when Vicky stops bleeding," Greta said. "Salpeter out. Keep us alive, ladies."

"I'm trying," Laena muttered, shoving at the com switches and kicking off to spin in the opposite direction. "Annie, seriously, I need an ETA. Systems are up and running again, I need to know when to move into zero-g."

"Wait for Tenn," Annie said. "We gotta pick them off, first. We're almost—shit—okay _now_. GO." Laena hit the six switches in sequence, the movement easy and precise from hours of long practice. She kicked the accelerator into gear and then pushed the throttle, and there, _there_ was the comforting hum of the zero-g drive.

The mountain loomed up ahead of her, and Laena waited until the last second to pull up, coming in low and fast as they flipped upside down. She heard the _clack-clack-clack_ of the outer hull rotating back to the top, and then the hiss of Tenn's scarily accurate anti-aircraft missiles. Laena still didn't know what they'd done to be blessed with Tennessee as their earstwhile captain, but if the Gods wanted to help them out, Laena wasn't complaining.

"They're out," Tenn said through the intercom. "Push it, Laena. We don't have much time."

"Yes _ma'am_ , " Leana said, grinning widely. The ground dropped away from them as Laena pointed the cockpit up towards the stars.

 **1.**

"So okay," Z said, dropping into a seat in the sick bay. Her arm still ached, covered up with a stolen emergency bandage kit, but other than the blaster burn she hadn't noticed any other injuries. She silently thanked the gods that Laena had been so quick to get them out of there. "That didn't go as well as we thought."

"Thank you," Tennessee said dryly. "That was a brilliant observation. Next you're going to inform me about the engine trouble, aren't you." She sounded exhausted, her voice flat and her consonants clipped. She was pulling her hair out of the complicated up-do she'd needed for the job, combing it with her fingers and tucking it back into her usual long braid.

From the single cot, Vicky-T snorted. Her forehead and face was still covered in smears of blood, which Greta was carefully wiping off. "Calm down, Tenn," Vicky-T said quietly. "We all made it out okay."

"Now I _know_ you hit your head," Greta said. "Normally you'd be agreeing with her." Vicky-T nodded tiredly, and closed her eyes. Her leg was wrapped up between two metal planks, salvaged from the engine room after Annie had fixed their coolant issue. It would have to do until they could find a safe port to land.

"Cass," Z called out, in the general direction of the ceiling. Her eye makeup felt smudged, and Z wiped at her face distractedly. "Can we get a run-down of the damage?"

"On it," Cassadee said, through the speakers. "I'd come down in person, but I'm scanning frequencies right now. Let's see. Engine temporarily fixed, but we're burning coolant at twice the usual rate. We've only got enough gas to make it two more sectors—burn scars on the starboard hull—looks like something weird going on with life support, but I bet that's just a wiring problem. Greta, did you upload Vicky-T's vitals?"

"They're in," Greta said, pressing a button with her foot on the base of the cot. "But I can tell you right now that her leg is broken."

"Yup," Cassadee said. Her voice had that distracted tone which meant she was concentrating very hard on the screen in front of her. Z still couldn't quite believe she was only nineteen—she'd never met someone so utterly brilliant at cracking comm systems, and so absolutely terrible at everything else. "Okay. It's still running, but it looks like she's also got a concussion and some internal bruising. Make sure that Kalar drip is hooked up, she's going to need it. Life support says we've got some minor bruises and scrapes, Z's got a sprained elbow underneath that blaster burn, and Annie's—Annie, seriously, what were you _doing_ down there?"

"I dropped the spanner on my foot," Annie said, through the doorway. She was still wearing her engine-room jumpsuit and carrying a length of tubing, and she had dark circles under her eyes. "And then we turned really fast and there were some pipes in my flight-path. You know how it goes. How come no one's making fun of Z for her elbow?"

"Because I got it shooting at people," Z said, grinning slightly. "Vicky-T and Greta saw it. It was awesome."

"Z," Cassadee said, through the intercom. "Shooting people isn't 'awesome.' We've talked about this." She sounded like she was holding back laughter.

"Remember the Bequesh drop-off?" Z said. "Hmmm? I seem to remember a certain someone dropping a a self-replicating splice into government payroll files. And oh, how did you describe it at the time? I believe you told me it was 'fucking awesome.' "

"You're never allowed in the comm room again," Cassadee said. "Never ever. Cross my heart. I'm making a big KEEP OUT Z sign and hanging it on the door."

"Thank you, Cass," Tennessee said politely, but firmly. "We need to move on. Would you mind keeping the channel open? We need to have a meeting, but I want you in the comm room for those frequency scans."

"Yes ma'am," Cassadee said immediately. "Call if you need me."

"Right, so." Tennessee said, looking around her crew. "We've a problem." She still had a faint trace of a Londinian accent, even when she spoke Basic. Z had been trying to get the story out of her for _years_ , but so far, she hadn't had any success. Tennessee was _so_ smart—and kind—and occasionally ruthless—but more importantly, she was incredibly close-lipped when she wanted to be.

"Huh-wha?" Laena mumbled, poking her head up from the tiny couch crammed into the corner. "I'm awake. I'm totally awake. What are we talking about, again?"

There was a faint trace of a smile on Tennessee's face, even as she tried to give Laena a reproving look.

"I'm the pilot," Laena mumbled, dropping her face back into the cushion. "My job is _hard_ , okay?"

"Yes," Tennessee said. "It is, but you don't have a broken leg, so I don't have much sympathy."

Laena paused for a moment. "True," she said, wincing a little in Vicky's direction. "Okay. I'm up. What have we got?"

"Two sectors," Tennessee said, fumbling in her jumpsuit for the hard copies of the maps. "You heard Cass. Right now, this is all the space we've got to work with before the engine kicks out." She leaned back as the rest of her crew crowded around her. Z siddled up to her side and tucked herself under Tennessee's arm, because she was small and could usually get away with it. Tennessee squeezed her shoulder, briefly, and then turned back to look at all them.

"I'm not—I hate having to be this serious, all 'ladies, I am your captain, listen to me,' " Tennessee said, after a moment. She gave them all a lopsided smile. "But this is bad. We need ideas, and we need them fast. We've got to get Vicky somewhere, and the ship's barely holding together—"

"—and at least one of us has a warrant in every single one of these systems," Z finished grimly. She'd finally managed to poke her head in around the table, and she'd instantly understood why Tennessee was so grim.

"..really?" Annie said, tracing her fingers over the map. Her fingertips left faint trails of engine oil, which no one mentioned. "Wait, who's wanted on Kalee?"

"Me," Greta said, and Z coughed. She knew exactly what happened on Kalee, and although it was a funny story in hindsight, this really wasn't the time or the place. Greta took the hint. "It was, ah. A slight misunderstanding," she said.

"With blasters?" Cassadee piped in, over the intercom. "I hate those."

"Maybe," Greta said. "There may have been blasters. Anyway. I don't think they'd be real happy to see me show up."

"Agreed," Tennessee said. "And the entire Tarr system is out—" she looked significantly at Z, who shrugged. Whatever, that one hadn't been her fault at all. So she'd blown up a docking facility. Whoops.

"—and Annie's had some problems on Beto—"

"Misunderstandings," Annie said quickly.

"With blasters?" Cassadee said, again from the ceiling.

"I don't want to talk about it," Annie said. "Let's talk about how we're barred from half of sector 45 because that's where Laena did her flight training."

"And deserted the academy," Laena said, still yawning. "Don't forget that part."

"Exactly," Tennessee said, her voice starting to betray a hint of impatience. "So what are we going _do_?"

Z peered at the map, scanning it closely. The writing was in modified Basic, the spelling and printing slightly different from standard. It was old, too, stained and dog-eared in the corners. It was Tennessee's star map, Z realized suddenly. Not the ship's, not Laena's, but Tennessee's personal map. Which meant—

"What's this?" Z said, bending her head almost to the table. There was an unmarked planet in the Manchest system, a tiny world orbiting two twin suns. When she looked closely, she could see the faint trace of lettering, as though the print had been scribbled out and then erased. "Is this inhabited?"

"What do you mean?" Laena said, curling closer to get a better look. "There's no fifth planet in the Manchest system. This map has to be wrong. Whose is it?"

There was a long pause. Z held her breath.

"It's mine," Tennessee said, eventually. She wasn't meeting anyone's eyes, instead ducking her head and biting her lip as she stared down at the star map. "And—there is something there. Inhabited. We could—if that's what we all decide."

"Tenn," Z said softly. She didn't like the look on her captain's face, like someone preparing to face a firing squad. "I'm sure there's another way. I just thought. What is it, what's so bad about—"

"There will still be trouble," Tennessee said, raising her voice and ignoring Z. "But whatever happens, none of you will be involved. I promise."

"What do you mean, trouble?" Greta said, slowly. "This isn't the only option. Maybe, maybe if I could just set down on Kalee and talk to the Ambassador's people...?"

"I should have told you all before," Tennessee said, almost to herself. "I should have just made the decision. I don't know why I even—"

" _Tennessee_ ," Z said. " _Damn_ it, for fuck's sake, tell me what's going on." She knew as soon as the words had left her mouth that she might have overstepped. They were a smuggler's crew—they didn't bother holding to propriety—but there were some things you still didn't do, and one of them was swear directly at your Captain.

Tennessee blinked at her in surprise.

"Sorry," Z said, hurriedly. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. But how are we supposed to vote, if you won't even tell us what's so bad about this place?"

Tennessee sucked in a breath. Then she squared her shoulders, and looked at all of them. Her eyes were clear. "It's a slaving colony," Tennessee said, her voice calm and carefully controlled. "I was born there."

—

Tennessee was sitting in the gunner's chair, staring out at the lines of blurred stars visible through the transparisteel bubble. Her eyes looked slightly wet, as though she'd been crying, but it could also have been the light.

"Hey," Z said softly, knocking on the side of the hatch. "Can I come in?"

Tennessee jumped a little bit in her chair, obviously startled. She turned her body away from Z, and Z could see her wiping quickly at her eyes with the back of her hand. But when she said "Of course, come in," her voice was steady.

Z pulled herself up through the hatch, tucking her legs underneath her and standing up. There was only one chair in the gunner's bay—for obvious reasons—so Z perched herself gingerly on the silent instrument controls.

"I just," Z said, and then she shook her head. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," Tennessee said. She was playing with the ends of her hair, a nervous habit. "I should have done it from the start. I should have just made the decision."

"No," Z said, frowning. "No, don't—you can't beat yourself up over that. Fuck, I wouldn't go back to my home planet if you dragged me, and I wasn't a—" she broke off, suddenly aware that she was treading on dangerous ground.

"You can say it," Tennessee said gently. "It's okay. I don't mind."

Z nodded. She thought about all the things she'd noticed about Tennessee—little things, like the way she wore her hair long and the way she was so quietly competent, so at ease in the stars. It made Z's chest hurt to think about Tennessee being locked up, forced to stay in one place.

"I was scared," Tennessee said, after a long pause. The stars whirled past them, painting a trail of ever-changing shadows across her face. "I was so fucking scared, Z. And I should have just sucked it up and _done_ it, but I was hoping so hard that we'd come up with something else. Some brilliant plan, or—"

"I think we used up all our brilliant plans on that last pick-up," Z said, smiling a little ruefully. "I forgot to ask—did we even manage to save any of the cargo?"

"Some," Tennessee said. "Not enough. But we can trade when we reach Manchest V, and it should be enough to get Vicky back to normal and get Annie the parts she needs."

"Yeah," Z said. "But is it worth it?"

"What do you mean, is it worth it?" Tennessee said, whirling on her suddenly. "Of course it's worth it, Z. This ship—I'd do anything for her. For you," Tennessee said, and then hurried correctly herself. "For all of you, I mean."

"I'm not saying we shouldn't," Z said, the words tripping over themselves. "Fuck, you know I'm not, I wouldn't even _joke_ about leaving Vicky like that. I just wish there was another way."

"Me too," Tennessee said, her shoulders slumping a little. "I don't want to leave you guys," she said quietly, and then it was Z's turn to feel the hair on her neck raise itself in alarm.

"Who said anything about leaving," Z said, her hand traveling to grab at Tennessee's arm of it's own accord. "You're not leaving us, Tenn. No. No, I thought you'd just have to hide in the ship—"

"If they find me," Tennessee said, her voice low. "They'll lock me up again. I escaped, Z. I didn't buy my freedom, or earn it. I have papers—forged ones—but they'll know instantly that they aren't real. They're good enough to fool a lot of officials, but. They won't work here."

"So we don't let them find you," Z said desperately. "Or we break you out, if the worst happens. We're not leaving without you, Tenn. I'd die first." Z felt a blush rise up on her face, and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't say anything else.

Tennessee shook her head. "Z—that's," Tennessee said. "Thank you. I mean, no, you're an idiot, obviously, and I could never let that happen, but. Thanks." Z felt her shoulders relax a little. Whether it was luck or the immanent distraction of landing on Manchest V, Tenn seemed willing to let it slide. The problem was, Z didn't know if _she_ could. She'd meant it, every word, and it was a nice thing to say when it wasn't rapidly in danger of becoming a reality. Z took a deep breath and opened her mouth. She'd been so careful, for so long, but if this would help them all make it out alive—

"We need to get the ship ready," Tennessee said, standing up and brushing herself off. She gave Z one of her wide smiles, a little shaky around the edges but a good imitation, all the same. "Six hours to the system boundary, and we need to clean up as much damage as possible," Tennessee said briskly. "I don't want us to look like we're running scared. Can you take care of the mess and the supply hold? You know they're going to board us, and—"

"Tennessee," Z said carefully, interrupting her commands. Tennessee frowned at her, and Z knew _that_ look. That was the _you are seriously trying my patience_ look, and Z was far too familiar with it. She spoke quickly "I. There's another way out of this."

"What do you mean?" Tennessee said carefully. "How is there another way out? Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Did you ever wonder why I choose the name Z when I went underground?" Z said.

Tennessee blinked at her. "The same reason I choose Tennessee?" she said, after a moment. "I figured you just—liked it, I guess. I like it," Tennessee said, smiling hesitantly at her.

"It's short for Elizabeth," Z said. "Elizabeth Berg." She watched as the familiar play of emotions crossed Tennessee's face—confusion, then understanding. And then shock. That was always the last stage, and the hardest one to watch. Z hated being judged by her last name.

"You're," Tennessee said, sitting down abruptly on the floor. It looked like a slow, controlled collapse, and Z swallowed and knelt down by her side. "Yeah," Z said, quietly. "I am. But my life tends to go a lot smoother if no one else knows about it."

"I remember you on the holocasts," Tennessee whispered, sounding both terrified and amazed. "God, Z. You were what, sixteen when you ran away? The whole galaxy was looking for you."

"Fifteen," Z said. She could hear a faint hint of pride creeping into her voice, and she tamped it down. "It wasn't that bad."

"Where did you _go_?" Tennessee said, shaking her head. "I mean, seriously, I don't know if you knew, but the man-hunt for you was _intense_. It was top-level news for weeks, even _I_ knew about it—"

"Oh, around," Z said evasively. "Lots of places. But, Tenn. Look. I've—I still have my papers," Z said. "We could—believe me when I say that this isn't what I want, but we could fake it. I could just—say that I owned you? Manchest V is pretty far off the grid. We could probably get away with saying I'd been found, and they just hadn't heard about it."

"No," Tennessee said, immediately. "No. I won't let you do that. If your family hears about it—"

"—They won't," Z said firmly. "We'll be careful. I'll charm the shit out of the boarding party. I'll buy them off if I have to."

"They're going to wonder what you're doing here," Tennessee said, shaking her head. "No, it's. I know how much it took for you to offer this, but. We can't. It's too dangerous. I can't let you risk that for me."

"It's this or _slavery_ ," Z burst out, unable to contain it any longer. "God, you're so—don't be _stupid._ I can always run again. You—can't," Z said, dropping her head down. She rubbed at her wrist, feeling sheepish. Seriously, if Tennessee didn't kick her off the ship after this was all over, it was more than she deserved. Z was really testing the limits of their professional relationship today.

Tennessee ducked her head down, staring at the floor. There was a thin coating of dust on the sheet metal, and she trailed her long fingers through it.

"I'll think about it," Tennessee said, eventually. Z squeezed her shoulder, and then stood up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Tennessee said, frowning.

"To tell the others," Z said simply. "And to clean the supply room, ma'am." She saluted sharply, and then hurried out the door before she lost her cool.

-

"Nu-uh," Leana said, giving Z a skeptical look. "No way. I don't believe you."

"I know," Z said, rubbing her forehead. "I know, it sounds ridiculous, but you have to believe me."

"There is no way you're a Berg," Laena said, stacking the heavy supply crates easily. "They don't really exist. They're all legendary and stuff. Like ghosts in the ether."

"My father would be really pleased to hear you say that," Z muttered to herself. The Bergs had made their fortune in the early days of space-faring, providing the money and ships to set up countless colonies across the stars. It had come at a seemingly reasonable price - 1% of the gross colonial products, paid in credit, transferred each year. No one—including her great-grandfather—had realized how insanely wealthy the colonies would become, how far humanity would travel. By the time Z was born, the family had kept to itself for so long that they had attained near-mythical status. Rarely holographed and interviewed, the Bergs owned an entire Sector of the galactic core. It was a paradise of jungles and forests and pleasure gardens, spread across a dozen worlds.

Z had hated it ever since she was a kid.

"Whoever your father is, he's not a Berg," Laena said kindly, kicking a pile of trash into the corner, behind a large shipping crate. "I know you're trying to protect us, but come clean, Z. Who did you steal the papers from? That's a pretty impressive score."

Z shook her head. "I didn't want to have to do this," Z said, rolling her eyes as she crossed the holding bay and headed towards the tiny infoscreen. "You're going to laugh at me."

"I might laugh if you don't stop pretending you're a Berg," Leana said, following Z over. She peered over Z's shoulder, frowning at the screen. Z was pulling up the history of the colonial projects, jumping from link to link until she had a family profile of the project's main benefactors.

"Pull up the profile for Elizabeth Berg," Z said, leaning over to rummage in one of the lockers built into the ship's wall. She pushed the false backing aside, fumbling around until she could grab hold of a passable wig. It wasn't really the same color as her natural shade, but it was close enough. The Bergs, like most wealthy families, had kept their hair long, a symbol of privilege and beauty. Z had chopped hers off within twenty-four hours of running, but she knew that without the right hair color and length, the resemblance between her fifteen-year-old self and her current self was a little hard to see. It was one of the things which had kept her safe, but right now it wasn't helping matters. She'd definitely have to wear the wig on Manchest V.

"Didn't she die?" Laena mused, poking at the profile until the news photos started to enlarge. "I thought she died. Youngest daughter, right? What, did you sneak in to the funeral and nick her papers?"

"Something like that," Z said, arranging the long braids and strands of hair around her face. She'd do a better job later, but right now what mattered was that Laena believed her. "Look," Z said, poking Laena in the shoulder. She moved to stand next to the infoscreen, schooling her face into an expression of aristocratic disdain. "See?"

Laena paused, stepping back with an interested expression. She examined Z for a moment, her eyebrows knitting together.

"That's impressive," Leana said eventually. "You really _do_ look a lot like her."

Z groaned, tugging the wig off. "Quiz me," Z said, covering her eyes with her hands. "Anything on that profile. Anything you can think of. Go."

"Where were you born?" Laena said.

"Calima XVI, South Side, private maternity ward, all in attendance," Z recited instantly, feeling slightly foolish as she did so. She couldn't help it - facts like that one had been drilled into her from such a young age that she was almost incapable of not reciting the whole phrase. It was one of the reasons she loved being Z so much; there had been no history to learn, no rules to follow. She'd made up a new history and a new family for herself on every planet for years and years, relishing the unexpected freedom of her lies.

"Schooling?" Laena said, still frowning in confusion.

"Year One through Three, Artora Vortik, Private tutor to the Berg family," Z recited. "Year Four, Her Excellency Kaylara Chin, tutor to the Royal Family, second class. Year Five, Sei Atam, Order of the Nine Gates, Year Five Examination Period, collected class under—"

"You're really her, aren't you," Laena said softly, amazed. "You're really—"

"Gods, don't do that," Z said, taking her hand away from her eyes. "Please don't. I'm just Z, okay? That other person—that's just who I was raised as. Her life sucked and it was boring and she never got to shoot at people or do _anything_." Z pressed her lips together, aware that she was starting to sound like a petulant teenager.

"Lots of money, though," Laena said softly, and Z felt herself relent a little. She didn't know much about Laena's past, but she knew without a doubt that her upbringing hadn't been as privileged as Z's.

"Think of it this way," Z said, picking up the discarded wig from the floor, and starting to comb it out so she could use it later. "I used to get half an hour off every day. _Half an hour._ Thirty minutes to 'play.' What can you do with that?" She shook her head. "Nothing," Z said. "And that's why everyone in my family is so goddamn boring. It's all just duty this and money that and oooh, isn't that dress pretty?" Z made a face. "I realized pretty quickly on that the money and luxury wasn't worth the price. I'll take stale bread and freedom any day." She set the wig down on the corner of a supply crate, frowning as she tried to fix a slightly matted braid.

"Aren't you worried they're going to find you?" Laena said, standing still for another few moments, and then shaking off, like she was trying to rid herself of all of these strange new revelations, these sudden complications of knowing who her crewmates really were.

"Damn straight," Z said. "But if we can get Tennessee out of here at the end of it, it's worth it. They find me and—shit, I mean, I know all that stuff I just said, but at least I'd be safe and have enough to eat. If they find Tennessee—" Z broke off, refusing to voice her fears. "It would be bad," Z said, and Laena nodded her agreement.

"Real bad," Laena said, She hit the light switches, dimming them down until the cargo hold was dark enough to cover up some of the worst battle scars from view. "You bringing that with us?" Laena said, pointing towards the wig.

"I need to wear it," Z said, ruffling a hand through her own short, white-blond hair. "As much as I don't want to."

"Then bring it with us," Laena said, squeezing Z's shoulder as she hurried her out of the supply hold. "Two more rooms to clean, and oh-five-hundred until we land. Let's get moving."

—

[three hours - she tells Annie. Annie is equally suspicious but catiously optimistic]

[two hours - she tells Greta and Vicky. She does this very quickly, because she's getting tired of telling people, and they're just kind of like "...okay?"]

[one hour - she tells cassadee. Cassadee is unimpressed and also already knows.]

[half an hour before they land - tennessee calls Z to her quarters. She's cut all of her hair off (slaves have short hair) and Z gasps in surprise because somehow, she hadn't made that connection. Then she asks Z to hit her so the slavery ruse will go off easier, and Z flatly refuses, and Tennessee sighs and then punches Z in the face. They end up rolling around on the floor sparring and trying to get the best of one another and then breaking apart guiltily when the intercom chimes. Z reaches out and gently brushes the blood off tennessee's split lip, and Tennessee smiles at her.]


End file.
